


Leave My Body

by TheOneWithTheObsessions



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Amy-centric, Angst, F/M, Gen, Not a Happy Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 01:19:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOneWithTheObsessions/pseuds/TheOneWithTheObsessions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She doesn't want to be the girl-who-waited-anymore. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No More Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: Drug use, suicide, character death, angst all over the place, Not a happy ending in sight. Proceed at your own risk.
> 
> Title is from Florence and the Machine's song 'Leave My Body'.

When the Doctor leaves her this time, she says it will be the last. No more waiting for the mad man to take her away in his magic blue box. She cannot stand to waste another moment waiting for him. Not when he doesn’t wait for her. He thinks he can just waltz in and out of her life whenever he feels like it. He believes he can leave her behind and expect perfect forgiveness when he pops back for a cuppa and an adventure. She can’t stand it anymore. The waiting hurts. The endless hours of watching the sky for a hint of something (anything) that could be him. The constant looking over her shoulder at every oddly dressed figure that walks past. Running towards what could be (but never is) the sound of engines.

 

After 14 years of being the-girl-who-waited, she gives up. Gives up everything she has allowed to define her for most of her life. It is hard to give up her identity. (But not as hard as being abandoned time and time again by that thoughtless man). Each day is a struggle. Her thoughts burn her (so many revolve around _him)._  Some days she can do nothing but lie in her bed, and fight for every breath she takes.

 

Rory tells her it will get easier. He offers meagre comfort that she cannot force herself to accept. This is her battle, not his. She pushes him away – subtly at first, then with harsh words and flung objects when he cannot _take a fucking hint._ She locks him out of her brain (and their house). He gives up as well – just not on the Doctor, but on her. She cannot bring herself to care.

She spends her time alone; trying to figure out who she is. She feels invisible. Like she is becoming a washed out watercolour rather than the bold acrylic she has always been. She is becoming a ghost. People look right through her on the rare occasion she leaves the house for food. She doesn’t eat, but she isn’t hungry. She is the girl who has no meaning. She thinks if she must become someone (anyone) before she fades away entirely.

 

She finds she cannot be little Amelia Pond telling stories of her Raggedy Doctor to anyone who will listen. She can’t even be Amy Pond: kissogram. She certainly isn’t Amy Williams: wife. _That_ ended after months of screaming rows, her changing the locks on her ‘husband’ (twice) and head wound that needed stitches. She never liked that vase anyway; it looked much better exploding into a hundred fragments on her _husband’s_ head (she can’t be held responsible for his failure to duck).

 

She chooses to become the life and soul of the party (any party). She tries so very hard. She dresses up, wears her make-up armour and goes out on the town. She does everything the _cool kids_ do. She does anything (anyone) that gets put in front of her. She sees herself as the person the party revolves around, the one who everyone wants to be, who everyone _wants_. She isn’t. It takes 6 months of her new life for that to sink in. She thinks if she keeps trying, it will get better. It doesn’t. It gets worse. The final nail in the coffin of Amy Pond: Party Animal comes after 6 months, 27 blackouts (34 men) and 1 overdose. She wakes up in hospital with no memory of anything that happened the night before and feeling like she’s been hit by a truck. (They tell her she was found OD’ing in the street. They say she died twice on the way to hospital. That they nearly couldn’t bring her back. They use phrases like ‘will to survive’ and ‘possible psychiatric help’. She ignores them until they leave her alone).

 

When she leaves the hospital a week later, she leaves that Amy behind and begins the difficult process of choosing which Amy she wants to be next.

 

The only problem is – thought of becoming someone new kills her. She can’t bear to look into the mirror. She can’t abide the thought of having to force herself to try. So, by default, she becomes Amy Pond: Shut-In. She spends her time staring at the walls of her house, talking to herself (on the days when she can bear the sound of her own voice) and sleeping. She loses weight. She becomes pale and gaunt. She looks like the ghost she feared becoming.

 

This Amy ends when the nightmares start. The terrors she sees when she closes her eyes frighten her to the point of insomnia. (She calls this new Amy “Zombie”). She shuffles round in a haze, occasionally seeing things out of the corner of her eye that are never there when she turns around. Menial tasks become arduous. She cannot focus on anything. When she sleeps (passes out) she sees not only monsters that she cannot outrun, but her own faults and failings. She sees herself harming the man she thought was the love of her life. She sees herself high as a kite, and acting like a common whore. She sees herself self-destructing.

 

She thinks that there is only one way out. She isn’t willing to go back to being innocent little Amy who watches the stars (not that she could be called _innocent_ in anyway).

 

In the end, it is one of the easiest things she has ever done. The only hard part is thinking what to say, what words to leave behind her.

 

(The last thing she as the life leaves her body is blood. C _rimson_ she thinks drunkenly. _Crimson, eleven, delight, and the smell of dust after rain._ Her last act is to lean forward to see the stars. She feels like she is flying.)


	2. The Aftermath

Three people stand around a freshly dug grave. One is wearing a dog collar and leading the others in prayer. One is a dumpy looking woman who cannot stop the tears falling down her face with loud wails of despair. The third cries silently. He is clutching a scrap of paper in his right hand.

 

The final words are spoken over the grave. The priest leaves the mourners behind. The dumpy woman practically runs from the cemetery, wailing all the way to her car. The man remains a silent sentinel over the plot of earth. He is pale and shivering. He looks battered and broken. He holds himself together at the seams with sheer force of will. He is waiting.

 

In the distance there is a noise. Engines. The pale man looks up. His face becomes angry and hard. He runs towards the noise.

  

* * *

  

In the garden outside a rundown house, a blue box appears out of thin air. A man in a bowtie and tweed suit steps out. He is smiling. He skips to the door of the house. He knocks. 

 

When there is no answer, he knocks again.

 

And again.

 

Before he can knock a fourth time, the angry man comes barrelling into the garden.

 

The smiling man’s face falls at the sight of the tearstained, beaten and black clad figure.

 

A creased note changes hands.

 

The no-longer smiling man reads it. He crumples to the ground. He looks hollowed out and somehow smaller. He is crying.

 

He asks: _how long?_

 

 _Two years_ says the broken man. ( _Too long_ he thinks)  

 

There are no more words exchanged. Silence falls. 

 

The broken men sit; and try to put themselves back together.

 

* * *

 

Later, when the tears have dried and they have patched themselves up adequately, the broken men stand as one and walk away from the rundown house in silence.

 

Neither looks back.

 

* * *

 

A forgotten note flutters to the ground. It is short and written in a shaky hand with deep blue ink. It reads:

 

_To anyone (everyone),_

_I’m sorry. It’s better this way. Don’t mourn me, mourn the Amelia who has been lost all her life._

_Rory: I’m sorry I wasn’t a better wife. Be happier than I ever could make you._

_Doctor: You did this. Don’t leave the next one behind. Gotcha._

* * *

The black clad man hears engines as he walks from the house.

 

He looks up at the stars, and wishes he could fly. 


End file.
